The chronicles of three brother's
by Lt-blue
Summary: This is the story of three hero's who's past compels them to enter the cursed land of boletaria and fight the mighty demons. As they grow stronger and closer together, the question remains. Will they defeat the old one and his many minions? Or will they fall like all before them have. Rated M for swearing, violence and gore. I will do a sequel. The sequel will be in Dark souls


AN: This story may contain dark souls elements, as well as some elements from other things, but for now I only intend to use some dark souls elements to help tie up parts of the story, with things like lore, geography, and characters to help tie up the motivations and pasts of the characters. Anyway, this is my first story, so, enjoy!

Prologue….

On the first day, man was granted a soul, and with it, came clarity. On the second day, upon the earth was planted an irrevocable poison, a soul devouring demon. Many years later, with the demon slumbering, forgotten beneath the world, king Allant the twelfth, by channeling the power of souls, brought unprecedented prosperity to his northern kingdom of Boletaria. That is, until the colorless Deep Fog swept across the land. Boletaria was cut off from the outside world, and those who dared penetrate the fog never returned. But, Vallarfax of the twin royal fangs broke free from the fog and told the world of Boletaria's plight. That the old king Allant had aroused the Old One, the great beast below the nexus, the being born on the second day, from its eternal slumber, and that a colorless fog had swept in, unleashing terrible demons. The demons hunt down men and claim their souls. Those who lose their souls also lose their minds. The mad attack the sane and chaos reigns. Vallarfax spoke of the enticing power of demon's souls. Each time a demon claims a human soul, its own soul is invigorated by the life force. And the power of a mature demon soul is beyond human comprehension. The legend spread quickly. Mighty warriors were drawn to the accursed land, but none have returned. Biorr of the twin fangs, Yurt the silent chief, Saint Urbain, Scirvir the wanderer, the sixth saint Astraea and her faithful knight Garl Vinland, and sage Freke, the visionary. The colorless Deep Fog creeps beyond Boletaria's borders. Human kind faces a slow and steady extinction. The Deep Fog will eventually swallow all lands near and far. But, all is not lost. For, around the world, things have been set in motion that will forever change it, for good or for ill. The fate of the world now rests in the hands of three individuals, who will forever shape it in their images.

In the ruins of Oolacile, a strange mage rises from the ground where had been kneeling, and says a quick prayer to a departed friend. Looking around, he makes sure that he didn't miss any magical artifacts that scatter theses ruins. He picks up two katana, a bow, and a catalyst that lay in front of a framed photograph of a young woman and the mage, both smiling, with the katana in question hanging from the woman's belt. The mage smiles sadly as he straps on the katana and puts the catalyst into sheathe, and promises to return. He knows he won't, but he had never been very good at keeping promises, had he? As he turns toward the encroaching fog, a single tear falls from his left eye as he remembers his friend, and what happened. His final thought as he leaves is "it may have ended in tragedy, but at least it happened". And thus he starts his march toward demons, power, and what will most likely be his end.

Farther north, though not too much farther, a young man says a teary good by to his tribe and family. He is the son of the chief of the many barbarian tribes of the north. He is going on a quest to save someone very dear to him, someone whom he would give his life for, who was taken from him before his very eyes. He knows it will be dangerous, but right now he is weak, and he most likely couldn't beat a drake, much less HIM. But, if the stories about demon souls are true, and he can acquire a few, the maybe, just maybe, he might succeed. And so, with his trusty sword (which is quite big), shield, and ax slung across his back, and with only his wolf fur clothing as his companion, he heads towards the harbor, and his ship, ready for his long and arduous journey into the fog. When later asked by the two he now thought of as brothers what he would have done had he known what awaited him, he simply shrugged and said he would have brought a bigger sword.

Between the two locations we have spoken of just now, a wanderer stood. He stared at the fog with a look of absolute confusion on his face. When they said a Deep Fog was consuming the land, he had thought it was a metaphor. He sighed. "Why oh why did it have to be fog? Why couldn't it be chocolate or clouds or something? How the hell am I supposed to see anything" he whined. "You know, I bet the reason the demons can collect so many souls is that no one can see them. Or maybe they all just fall of the cliffs and the demons just climb down after and then grab all the souls" he grumbled. He then paused. "I'm talking to myself again, aren't I…. Damnit I thought that stopped happening a while ago. Oh well" he just shrugged. Now, if there was an observer nearby, they might think he was crazy. And weird. I mean, seriously, who the hell has BLUE hair? But he would just laugh and say that was just his awesomeness. And you might just believe it. He was rather charismatic. He was everything people wanted to be. Skilled, strong, smart, brave, and funny. He could have settled down anywhere he wanted to, but chose not to. When he was asked why, he would just shake his head sadly and walk away. He sighed again. "Well, here we go" he said. And with that he was off, sprinting through the mist, further and further in he went, until all that could be seen of him was an outline, and then that was gone to. The path through the mist he had carved slowly closed behind him, as the mist advanced forever onward, seeking new souls to bring to the demons.

Else where, a mage of strange and unusual power strode into the mist, as a man on a boat did the same. At the time it may not have been known, but this signified the start of something great, something chaotic, and something that would forever change the balance of the world. So, three young men started their journey, and walked forever onwards, not knowing that they would never see the lands they left behind again.

AN: So, first chapter down of my first story. I hope you like it. Review!


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